


From Vale With Love

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage, F/F, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss has a few new things to try out with Yang and Blake gets to watch. Set in the Freezerburn Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Vale With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by rizzles-me-this.

Yang tapped the side of the monitor again. “Is this working?”

“It’s not my old dorm microwave, Yang.” Blake let out a fond, exasperated sigh, face pixelated for a split second. “Don’t beat it into submission, it’s working fine.”

“Hey, if you hit that thing hard enough, it made popcorn twice as fast.” Squinting at the little window in the corner reflecting the bedroom, she adjusted the screen another couple of centimeters, steadfastly ignoring the butterflies doing an Olympic routine in her stomach. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Hazel eyes, brighter than she’d ever seen anywhere else, almost glowed with amusement. “I know, that’s why I was surprised it got brought up at all. Not that I’m complaining about a free show after a fourteen hour flight.”

“How’s Tokyo?” Yang asked, taking a step back from the monitor. It would have to do; Blake would speak up if anything got in the way of the view.

“Lively as always. I love doing tours here.” A colorful cover was waved across the screen,  _The Ninja Who Loved Me_  printed in neon red at the top. “I get to see the new translation tomorrow. Where’s Weiss gotten to, by the way?”

Yang shrugged. “She said she had to get something ready.”

What Weiss could need for this that wasn’t already in the bedroom was a bit of a mystery, but Yang had resigned herself to a state of relaxed confusion. Going with the flow had always worked before, and after a roundabout and flustered confession whispered against her back one night, the pieces had fallen together with a mix of calls and texts, ending with a string of exclamation points on Blake’s end. Yang was willing to try pretty much anything once, even if the list she’d stumbled on in Weiss’ planner threatened to leave her face burned permanently red. If nothing else, it explained why the Platinum Snowflake credit card had been left next to the keyboard for a couple of nights.

“You want to lose the shirt, then?” Blake pointed, finger centering on the muscular bear printed on the fabric, emptying a fridge into its open mouth. “That’s cute, by the way.”

“Ruby got it for me.” Toying with the hem for a moment, Yang swallowed a nervous, excited flutter before pulling the shirt up over her head. Balling it between both palms, she made a measured toss towards the hamper in the far closet, smiling when it landed without touching the edges. “You really want to see me naked again after all this time?”

Biting at the side of an ink-stained thumb, one of Blake’s dark brows rose. “Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean you’re not one of the hottest people I’ve ever met. You put more work into those abs than Michelangelo did on David.”

Yang glanced down, running a thumb from the tight grooves between muscles all the way to the elastic band of her shorts, clinging just below the jut of hipbones. Picking up the first dumbbell — steel with a grease-stained handle from years in Dad’s garage — had felt like trying to carry a car when she was fourteen, but now it was part of her everyday routine, etched deep as the tattoos scattered across her skin. Weiss had been a bit shocked to find out how much food was packed in her apartment fridge to keep in fighting shape, but quickly got used to ordering for ‘three’ when they called out for delivery.

 _Since your shoulders are broad enough to demand their own social security number_  was the common mumble, Weiss’ hand cupped over the screen of her cell phone.

When she looked back up, Blake’s amusement had evolved into a toothy smile, bright eyes drifting from the ripple of muscle with each breath to the left strap of her bra, which had slipped while stripping off the shirt. Returning the smile, even as some warmth crept up her face, Yang reached back for the small clasp between her shoulder blades, unable to hold back a sigh of relief as the bra loosened, tugging it off and flinging it aside into the hamper.

“Have you done your measurements lately?” Blake asked, leaning against one elbow. “Like those bodybuilding magazines where the guy on the front says he has thirty inch biceps.”

“Nah. I mean, I check weight for fights, but size doesn’t matter without pop behind your punch.” After a quick bounce on the balls of her feet, Yang’s eyes flickered towards the bedroom door. If she strained to listen, Weiss’ footsteps could be heard whispering across the kitchen tile, but the noise didn’t give a single damn clue what she was up to.

A soft clearing of Blake’s throat drew her attention back to the monitor. “I heard Pyrrha got you into the heavyweight circuit. How’s that been?”

“It’s great. I kind of miss working at the bar full time, but showing up on pay-per-view every once and a while is like nothing else.” Hazel eyes dropped low when she smoothed a palm down one leg of her shorts. “Want me to lose these too?”

Despite the hint of mischief curving Blake’s mouth, Yang wasn’t quite sure how far this was going to go. Weiss had told her to keep entertained  _by_ _any means that come to mind_ , but it wasn’t like Blake could touch her from half a world away. Hell, that had been most of the talk when this whole idea first came up, making sure that jealousy wouldn’t flare in the middle of things.

“If you like.” Blake said, one shoulder rising in a casual shrug. There was no pressure in the words, only a patient warmth. “It does complete the picture.”

As soon as her shorts and panties hit the floor, Yang fought not to shy away from the screen. It wasn’t anything Blake hadn’t seen before, touched and kissed and photographed. Stretching both arms above her head, a slow roll of her shoulders eased out the kinks in her neck, a sigh of pleasure escaping her mouth. Pushing the tangle of blonde back out of her face, she was halfway to starting a braid when Blake’s mouth gave a subtle twitch.

“You like it loose, huh?” Yang’s fingers slid out of her hair, letting it fall wild. “Weiss does too, even if it gets in the way.”

A smile followed, Blake’s teeth bared in a crescent of white. “I can’t argue her taste. Sit on the edge of the bed for me?”

Yang felt the mattress sink beneath her body as she settled, legs shifting restlessly for a moment before splaying wide. Crossing them like one of those charm school reality shows would look ridiculous, and pressing them together felt awkward. The sheets were cool and soft from being changed this morning, sky blue cotton peeking out from under lithe, corded thighs. She liked the color, although it wasn’t quite as striking as Weiss’ eyes. Then again, nothing really was.

Even through the screen, Yang could trace Blake’s gaze as it traveled across her skin, anticipation pricking at her nerves like fingertips just shy of touching. Without another word, she started to draw a line from the hollow of her throat down, second hand joining the first to cup her breasts. They were a solid weight in her grasp, always too damn big to stay held down, but the look she got while touching them was worth it, rubbing away subtle aches with slow circles of her thumbs until a thrill of pleasure lit up her spine.

The kneading brought her nipples to tight peaks, pressing against the worn curve of each palm as she bit back a groan. Yang risked a glance up, pulse jumping another tick at Blake’s abject stare, silently goading her on. Splaying all ten fingers wide, Yang dragged them down her ribs, the flare of muscle that made Weiss purr the word  _serratus_. The angle led inward to her abs, the tight core where she could follow the divots and valleys between them, chasing shadows where the light fell just right.

At the juncture of hip and thigh, Yang took a breath to pause, heat spreading across her chest as she wrangled a wave of embarrassment back into submission. Usually when she touched herself, it was quick and simple, fingers on her clit and the other hand working inside her, thrusting up to the hard curve of tattooed knuckles. Getting off was a time-honored way to vent some steam in her book, not a center stage show. Delaying with a brief sweep down the swell of her quads — the fading scales of a dragon curled around one in golden ink — Yang found her way back up by centimeters, shoulders going rigid.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Yang.” The hunger in Blake’s expression hadn’t disappeared, but it was matched with concern. “You can wait until Weiss comes in or skip the whole thing.”

“No, I just—” Yang hesitated, spitting out a quick curse. The tones were easier to remember than figuring out something just as sharp in English. “Usually not this sort of showoff.”

Laughter, rich and low, poured from Blake’s throat. “Yang, sweetheart, you’re exactly that kind of showoff. I’ve seen you pose for the crowd, challenge Pyrrha to everything under the sun. Not only do you have what it takes, you’ve got an audience who wants everything you have on display.”

Confidence sparked through her like a golden heat; when put that way, it was hard to refuse. Yang brushed a pair of fingertips over thick curls, each pass sliding lower until she was cupping slick folds, the swell of her clit putting insistent pressure on her palm. The first stroke sent a shiver up her spine, wetness smeared all the way up to the knuckle. Keeping her eyes on the screen was a bit much this fast, but Yang kept to a slow exploration, starting with rubbing wide circles that got closer together, breath hitching whenever she dared near her entrance but never thrust inside.

Her other hand refused to stay still, a restless blur of motion that pushed her hair back out of the way, wiped away the damp rise of sweat from her brow. A sudden tremble urged both legs to spread wider, toes curling against the soft give of the carpet; her folds parted under two fingers while a third worked between them, the tease making Yang’s jaw tighten, a huff of strain escaping her lips. She wasn’t trying to get anywhere in particular, focusing on the ebb and flow of pleasure, the tension building low in her abdomen.

“Give me something.” Yang gasped, inclining her head towards the monitor, to Blake’s approving smile. “Mm, tell me what to do.”

There was a second’s pause, surprise playing across Blake’s face like the burst of a firework, but it didn’t last long. “Get as close to your clit as you can without touching. And pick up the pace, put some muscle into it.”

For someone who gave purple prose a whole new name, Yang was grateful for the direct words, the relief of having a guide nearly outweighing the frustration as she obeyed, hips jerking forward by instinct to make that last bit of contact. The hum of the lights, the fan working overtime above her head was all drowned out by the solid thud of her heartbeat, blood trying to work its will and make her come. Yang bit down on her tongue to keep some restraint, but the spark of pain only lasted an instant before being overwhelmed.

She hadn’t even noticed her eyes were closed until a cool hand pressed across her face, turning a haze of red to pitch black. Shock stilled Yang’s fingers, the sound rushing back into her head, breath ragged and quick.

“Keep them closed.” Weiss said, thumb smoothing away a drop of sweat from her brow. “Although your hands can stay there if you like.”

“I was wondering when you were going to join the party.” The low rasp in Bake’s voice had gone up a notch. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Schnee.”

“Likewise, Kitty.” Weiss quipped, then demurred. “Or do you prefer Blake in private?”

“I don’t use pennames in the bedroom, usually.” Blake said, gesturing idly at the screen. “Or while looking into someone else’s.”

“Considering your specialty, I can’t help but appreciate the irony.” When a kiss was pressed to Yang’s hair, she felt Weiss smile. Even sitting down, she knew the shorter woman had to pop up on her toes to make the gesture, a sweet touch considering she loathed being reminded of her height sans heels. “Give me one more minute.”

“Yeah.” Yang answered, breathless.

Weiss’ hand withdrew, followed by a soft clink, but she couldn’t pin down what made the noise. The bedside drawer was pulled open, everything inside scattering under the tap under short clear-coat nails. Instead of nerves, Yang found herself shaking with anticipation, reminding herself every other second not to open her eyes. Having Blake look at her — and maybe Weiss too — when she couldn’t see had her pulse hammering out of control.

A weight pressing down on the mattress made it sink until the front of Weiss’ bare thighs were right against her back. The fingers that brushed a few strands of hair out of the way were still surprisingly cold, but it was soothing after getting so worked up.

Weiss’ breath brushed over her neck like a caress. “You can open them now.”

The second she did, a cuff of thick leather was buckled around her throat. Yang let out a sheepish laugh at the realization of what it was; Blake’s expression was priceless.

“I—” A pink tongue tapped against white teeth, shock fading into amusement. “Well, you never wore anything like that with me.”

“So I’ve heard.” Weiss said under her breath, sliding a finger under the collar to make sure it wasn’t too tight.

The warm contact of Weiss’ body from behind derailed Yang’s train of thought. “You, uh, never asked.”

Hazel eyes rolled as Blake barely concealed a snort. “Because for all intents and purposes, you’ve always been two hundred pounds of straight up vanilla extract.”

Yang blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. Sex with Blake had always been great, a mix of rough and tumble when she was riding high after late night bar shifts and calm mornings where they lazed under the sheets, lost in touching each other, but she guessed it had been fairly low-key, especially in comparison to what Blake churned out in books and unrated TV specials. Weiss, on the other hand, always had ideas for something new, once they’d gotten into bed the first time. Not everything they tried had gone off without a hitch — Weiss couldn’t keep a straight face the time she wore those cat ears — but overall, it had been one hell of a ride together.

“On your back, darling.” Guided by a hand on her shoulder, Yang obeyed, settling against the pillows arranged by the headboard. Weiss straddled one of her legs without a word of warning, the faint heat between pale thighs making her shiver. “Blake, can you see?”

“I can see plenty.” The reply rumbled with a purr.

“Excellent.” Blue eyes locked onto Yang’s with just a split second of hesitation. She offered a broad smile back, bolstered by the haughty huff that left Weiss’ lips, as if she had never been nervous at all. “How warmed up did you get before I came in?”

There was still a heavy pulse between Yang’s thighs, the gentle waft of air in the room doing little to help the heat touching herself had built up. “Mm, I was pretty close. Was I not supposed to be?”

“No harm done.” Weiss said lightly, lips meeting hers in a firm kiss. The inviting flicker of Weiss’ tongue made Yang’s jaw go slack, surrendering the the passion of the kiss as it grew. When smooth fingers slid back beneath the collar and gave a hard tug, she nearly whimpered. “But I’ll need you cooled down for what I have in mind.”

That soft clink happened again, a movement out of the corner of Yang’s vision before something cold moved across her collarbone, the shift in sensation earning a gasp. Weiss held the ice cube between pale fingers like it was a piece of chalk, drawing frozen lines down her sternum, avoiding her breaths even as two chilled paths were made underneath them.

“Weiss.”  Yang shivered.

“Not too much, is it?” Her tone was light, almost casual. “You always look so lovely in the ice baths you take after matches.”

Baths that Weiss had interrupted more than once, braving the cold until the building heat in their bodies overcame it. Yang found it was the same with the ice here, the warmth chased down her skin as Weiss traced designs even lower. A brief caress of chilled fingers over one nipple made her moan, while a cheeky swipe of the ice near Yang’s belly button provoked a yelp of surprise, abs going rigid when she steadied herself.

Everywhere the ice touched, it melted, clear droplets sliding down her ribs and the swell of her hips like little waterfalls. By the time it was completely gone, Weiss’ fingers were toying with wiry curls, a gentle but cold pressure above where Yang burned the most. Glancing at the monitor confirmed Blake had lapsed into a hypnotised sort of silence, eager for the next move.

Her jaw was seized in a firm grip, that same eagerness reflected in Weiss’ stare. “Should I use another or have you come back to your senses?”

If anything, Yang could feel every sense like a shock; the sky blue eyes above her, the scent of sex and sweat, how her chest rattled with half-breaths and sighs. “I’m good, yeah.”

“Well, I knew that.” Weiss said, fingers tensing around the collar. “You’re always good.”

A second later, Yang found herself laying prone on the bed, pillows shoved unceremoniously out of the way. When Weiss kneeled over her, slick heat was already visible under pale curls, warm pink folds revealed as soon as sharp knees settled on either side of her head. From here, she couldn’t tell exactly what Blake could see, but a pointed pull of her hair snapped her attention sharp and clear to the woman above her. Hunger rose instead of anger, hands rising up to hold slender hips as her mouth was guided into place.

Weiss parted open effortlessly under her tongue, wet from entrance to clit. Despite the temptation, Yang didn’t go straight for the prize knowing she would be chastised for trying to rush. Instead, she used her mouth to draw lazy figure eights between Weiss’ folds, painting shorter strokes below them but never quite delving inside. After a moment of soft sighs and encouraging hums, muscle flexed in svelte lines up Weiss’ thighs, jerking her hips almost out of Yang’s reach. Confusion dulled violet eyes until she realized the game, tilting her head sharply to make contact again.

The angle was harsh on her neck, but eventually Weiss relented, easing back down. It was a brief mercy, though, her tongue about to thrust inside when a shift denied her the full taste. If Yang wanted Weiss to come, wanted her own relief, she had to work for it without being pushed. When Weiss’ hips were up, she lay open-mouthed kisses and bites on the inside of each thigh, waiting for her resolve — or patience — to break before diving back in with vigor. It was a feint, a bob and weave, and Yang knew that if Weiss had a single clue she was comparing sex to a heavyweight match, she’d be on the small couch for a week.

Having Weiss open and above her was one of the best things in the world, hearing the slow build-up of moans every time her tongue thrust past a dripping entrance, clear strands of arousal lingering between swollen folds and her chin. Tracing from the sharp jut of Weiss’ hipbones to the curve of her ass, Yang gave both cheeks a firm squeeze, reveling in the gasp that followed as she toyed with the swell of Weiss’ clit, right beneath its tight hood.

“More.” Weiss ordered, hips grinding insistently against her face.

Yang was happy to obey, taking a deep breath before her grip tightened, spreading Weiss even wider so Blake would have a full view of every long stroke of her tongue, the hard sucks of sensitive flesh. The taste she knew so well filled her mouth, took over her senses,  _needing_ to feel the woman on top of her come, for all that careful control to shatter—

“ _Yang_ —” The middle of her name was drawn out by a ragged gasp, harsh but so sweet to hear. With every pass of her tongue, Weiss’ hips bucked forward to claim more until she was halfway sagged against the headboard, exertion leaving a pink flush across pale skin.

A smile tugged at the corner of Yang’s mouth when Weiss’ hand came down to pet her hair, the touch slow and indulgent. As cutting and ice-cold as her girlfriend tried to be, affection always spilled freely when they were in bed together. It was something she took pride in, taking every opportunity to defrost the tension between narrow shoulders, even if it meant going above and beyond. She had gotten away with murder for the big three-zero, sneaking flowers up to Weiss’ office and then giving her another present bent over the huge wooden desk. Finding underwear that had  _Happy Birthday_  on the front had been way more difficult than Yang ever imagined, but it had been worth every penny for the look on Weiss’ face.

The weight above her shifted, Weiss’ mouth coming down to crash into a firm kiss. By the time it was over, they were both breathing hard again, holding each other’s gaze until a quiet click came from behind. Sitting halfway up, Yang glanced with Weiss in unison to the monitor, where Blake had the back end of a pen firmly bitten between white teeth, looking a little bit flushed. If the small gouges in the plastic meant anything, the attempt to stay mute had been going on for a while.

“Wow.” Recovering with a cough, Blake twirled the pen between two fingers. “I’m going to have inspiration for the next month.”

“Were you taking notes?” Weiss asked, one brow deliberately arched.

A sheepish smile appeared. “Just a few. Had to do something productive with my hands or I was going to have to sit on them.”

“Well, as long as they’re not criticisms.” Swinging her leg over Yang’s chest, Weiss gently tapped a nail against a bronze cheek when she was settled back onto the bed. “Do you need anything before we continue?”

It took a couple tries for Yang to clear the rasp from her throat, slick heat lingering on the back of her tongue. “Some water would be great.”

With a hum and nod given in answer, Weiss climbed off the edge of the mattress to slip back into the kitchen. When she came back with the largest cup in the cabinet filled almost to the brim, Yang almost felt herself tear up with gratitude, taking it between both hands before guzzling down the contents in two gulps. Ignoring the roll of bright blue eyes, she set the cup aside, wiping her mouth dry with a swipe of tattooed knuckles. Her wide-armed invitation to come back to bed was sidestepped as Weiss turned around, heading straight for the bathroom door.

“Hey, where are you getting off to?” Yang asked.

“Interesting choice of words.” Stepping past the threshold, Weiss took a split second to look back over her shoulder. “You’ll see. Keep our guest entertained.”

Once the door shut, Yang looked back to Blake, who was hiding a grin behind one hand. “This isn’t getting too weird for you, is it?”

“No. Although I’m glad I get to be labeled the  _guest_  and not the  _ex_.”

Yang’s hand went to her throat when she laughed, feeling the leather go taut. She had almost forgotten the collar was there, being so wrapped up in making Weiss come. It fit perfectly, the texture butter-soft against her fingertips; the whole thing had to be custom. That Weiss was so dedicated to the fantasy was impressive, and well, kind of cute.

“You’re whipped, though, babe.” Blake added a second later. “No question.”

Yang shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m having trouble minding it.”

The click of the door opening again barely registered before Yang felt an insistent press against her shoulder. Letting herself be molded into position, both knees sank into the comforter just in time for her to realize Weiss had eased her onto all fours. Facing the desk, Blake would be able to see every expression she made, no matter how vulnerable or embarrassing. The hard press of silicone against the outside of one of her thighs as Weiss rifled through the bedside drawer again filled in the other half of the equation.

It was the snap and drag of leather from behind Yang couldn’t make out, although Blake’s eyes went comically wide. A subtle weight tugged her head down after the rasp of metal, the coil of a leash coming into view seconds later. Yang sputtered, feeling her face light up bright enough to rival the sun, but in retrospect, she should have seen it coming.

“If it’s too much, I’ll understand,” Weiss whispered in between kisses across her shoulder blades, “but it was hard to forego the final detail.”

“It’s fine.” Yang said, shivering when teeth grazed just shy of her nape. “No wonder that package that came last week was so big.”

“The hard part was getting your measurements, really,” there was a playful tug on the leash, collar jostled by the pull as Weiss’ other hand pressed between her thighs, seeking heat, “but it was worth the trouble.”

Going down on Weiss had undone all the hard work of the ice, and every exploring finger came back desperately slick. Two slipped inside her without any resistance and Yang moaned, hoping the low sound would provide enough encouragement when every word had just flown out of her head. When that hand withdrew, there was the sound of something wet sliding across silicone, a tilt of narrow hips bringing the strap-on in line with her entrance.

She nearly outweighed Weiss twice over, but there was a surprising amount of strength in the first thrust, going deep until their bodies were flush together. Clutching tightly at the sheets, violet eyes flickered between holding Blake’s hungry, intrigued stare and simply blanking out, losing herself in the building rhythm from behind. Inexperienced or not, Yang couldn’t deny how damn good it felt.

The leash was already short, but wrapped around Weiss’ wrist twice over, it made for a tight anchor, never letting her get past the last inch of the toy before it plunged to the hilt again. Yang gasped when she clenched around the shaft; it had to be about the same length of some of the others they bought, but it was thicker at the base, tapering so the end of each thrust left her feeling so full she could barely think. Weiss’ palm pressed down between her shoulders, the coils of leather scraping sweat from her skin, breath a cool if teasing relief in one ear.

“When’s the last time you let someone be on top?” The murmur was too soft for Blake to hear, but Yang could make out every word. “So tall, so strong, it’s expected you’ll run the show, isn’t it? I wonder how many people have missed out on how gorgeous you look on your knees.”

The only answer she could offer was a breathless groan, muscle rippling down her back as it arched, hips rising when her head bowed down, a cascade of gold hiding the monitor from view. Even through the curtain of her hair, Yang felt Blake’s presence, knew those bright eyes traveled over her quivering frame. Weiss’ fingers drummed from chest to hip, tapping a tattoo that ended just below her belly button, the lines of her body that drew taut with every breath. No matter how quick or demanding the pace, how eagerly she was used, the pressure built without any sign of relief. Polished nails and teeth gave a constant reminder of how raw her nerves were from being fucked like this, the warm weight of Weiss’ breasts against her back caught between a comfort and a tease.

“Is there something you want?”

 _You know what I want_  was the first thing that jumped came to mind, but the only word that found its way out of Yang’s mouth was, “Weiss—”

“That’s not an answer.” Where the soft murmurs soothed her before, now Weiss’ voice was scorching, carving sweet friction over her skin in tandem with quick, hard thrusts. “It’s a simple question, Yang.”

Hearing Weiss wrap that beautiful mouth around her name, holding it on her tongue just long enough to savor the syllable, forced a growl from between Yang’s teeth. Was she really going to have to say  _that_  out loud, right in front of Blake? The thrill that shot down her spine was as strong as the blush that lit up her face, red and bright. “Let me—nn—can I come, please—”

Fingertips dipped between her thighs, just shy of where she needed it. “Louder.”

“Please let me come, Weiss,  _please_ —” Yang jerked her hips back, rattled them both as the toy filled her again and again.

As soon as Weiss’ hand pressed right against her clit, working in tight circles, she was gone, gripping the sheets so tight it felt like they were going to shred into pieces. Yang bowed her head as she gasped, made sounds she didn’t even know she could make, choked off at the very end when the collar around her throat went taut from behind, caught by the leash. It relaxed a second later, leather lightly slapping her arm, and she let out a breathless laugh, body sagging against the bed while pleasure pulsed through her veins, pure liquid heat. The aftershocks faded while Weiss kissed up her nape to the buckle of the collar, letting out a pleased sigh before it was undone and pulled away.

“Catch your breath.” Stray strands of gold were tucked back behind her ear, out of her face. “I’m done putting you through the wringer, darling.”

“Hell of a workout.” Yang answered breathlessly, punctuated with a laugh before she managed to look back up at the monitor. Blake’s pen had vanished, replaced by a glass of water that was close to empty; the condensation dripping off the sides might have cooled off sweat-slick palms, but the blown pupils, black swelling through hazel, were still plain as day to see.

A couple blinks and a cleared throat broke the spell. “I should probably let you lovebirds go take a shower, shouldn’t I?”

With a groan, Yang shook her head. “Showers mean standing up.”

“Oh, hush.” Weiss scoffed, although she could swear there was a bit of embarrassment hiding in her tone. “We’ve gone all day before.”

“Hey, I’m giving you a compliment.” She shivered as Weiss pulled away, the toy sliding free and leaving a faint ache in its place. “And I have a routine before anniversary dates. Gives me enough juice to go for hours.”

“She has a routine for  _everything_.” Blake quipped, mimicking a weight being lifted.

Putting the pillows back in some order, Weiss shuffled around on her knees until there was enough room for them to lay together again. “She really does.”

“You two don’t get to team up on me,” Yang wagged a finger, still slumped against the mattress, “that is definitely against the rules.”

“Alright, tiger, I’ll leave you be.” Glass clinked against wood before Blake gave an absent wave. “Send me a text before your next pay-per-view match, okay? They’re a blast to watch when I can brag I know the main contender.”

She smiled until the connection cut and rolled over onto her back, playfully nudging Weiss’ knee with the heel of one foot. It was batted away, but Yang swung with the momentum, and with a quick twist of limbs, she had the other woman pinned down, wrists locked up against the headboard.

“Now you want to be on top?” Weiss’ mouth quirked in a smile.

Yang shrugged, keeping her hold tight. “I was thinking about it.”

Leaning down for a kiss, she groaned when teeth caught her lip before letting go. “Question is, do I get to call you  _sir_?”

Yang felt all the blood rush back to her face. Maybe she needed a bit of practice first.


End file.
